


A Space in Time

by potooyoutoo



Series: The Witching Hour [3]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, M/M, Military Backstory, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potooyoutoo/pseuds/potooyoutoo
Summary: Part One:Hal Jordan is a pilot, a smooth-talker, and a loyal friend. He knows what he wants and he's not afraid to go for it, straight-laced folk be damned. A chance encounter with a stunning blond reporter, however, will change his life in ways he could never have expected.Part Two:[To be continued]





	A Space in Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! It's been a long time coming, but it's finally here! As a celebration of The Witching Hour's second birthday, please enjoy the promised Hal/Barry backstory! I've added tags to cover this, but please be aware that this fic will contain some period-typical slurs. If this is not your cup of tea, please pass this one up. I wanted to strive to make this piece as historically accurate as possible and to accurately portray the struggles that POC and LGBTQ individuals had to endure. If anyone is interested, the two books that have been invaluable to me as I did research are:
> 
> _Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War Two_ by Allan Bérubé  
>  _Gay L.A.: A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, and Lipstick Lesbians_ by Lillian Faderman and Stuart Timmons
> 
> As always, a HUGE thank you to my lovely editors, [CasualThursday](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualThursday/pseuds/CasualThursday) and  
> [National_Nobody](http://archiveofourown.org/users/National_Nobody/pseuds/National_Nobody), without whom this might have ended up an overly fluffy mess of continuity issues and bad dialogue.

_ August 6, 1941 _

 

The first time Hal saw Barry, he was standing by the mess hall, looking a little out of place and not a small amount of lost. He was in civilian clothes, something that wasn’t all that uncommon around the base, but still made him stand out like a sore thumb. Not to mention, he was also incredibly attractive. That always won points in Hal’s book. Making some quick excuses to the other pilots, he slipped away, making a bee-line for the man who was now glancing around like a cornered mouse. Grinning, Hal swaggered up into the other man’s space, casually brushing his hair back and leaning up against the wall, blocking the other man in. “Hey, you new around here?”

“Uh… I’m… um…”

_ He’s floored by my charisma. Excellent. _ Hal’s smile widened, taking in the stunning shade of blue in the other man’s eyes, and how absolutely adorable he looked all flustered and nervous. “I haven’t seen you around. I’m Hal. Hal Jordan.”

“Oh, I don’t… I mean, I’m not actually supposed… Heh, um…” The man rubbed the back of his neck, face flushing an endearing shade of pink. “I’m Barry.”

“You got a last name to go with that, sweetheart?”

Barry’s eyes widened, face now redder than a tomato. “Heh, ah… it’s, um, Allen. Barry Allen.”

“You’re a great conversationalist, you know. How about continuing this over lunch?” Hal was now fairly certain that he might have broken Barry’s brain or something, because the other man was clearly beginning to freak out.

Laughing nervously, Barry’s eyes were flickering around rapidly as he shifted from foot to foot. “Ah, look… I should probably go, but, uh… maybe some other time?” He smiled apologetically, and Hal could feel his heart melting at the sincerity of it.

“Sounds like a date. Don’t stand me up, you hear!”

 

_ August 16, 1941 _

 

The second time Hal saw Barry, he was in town, stopping by a local bar with a few of his buddies from the base. Barry was sitting at a booth in the far corner, all on his own, writing furiously in a little notebook. Waving his friends off to go find a table, Hal swung by the bar, flagging the bartender down and placing his order. A minute later, he was sliding into the booth across from Barry, setting two glasses of beer between them.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Barry almost leapt out of his seat, making a cute little squeak of alarm as he slammed his hand down on his notebook. “Ah! Oh… oh, it’s you.” He chuckled, sounding slightly out of breath. 

Hal pressed a hand to his chest in mock affront. “‘You’? That’s all? I’m not even memorable enough for a name?”

“Sorry, I just, um… wasn’t really expecting you… Hal.”

Hal shrugged, nudging one of the beers towards Barry. “You did promise me a date.”

Barry smiled tiredly, shaking his head and chuckling. “I thought it was supposed to be for lunch?”

“Well, you were avoiding me. Hard to make lunch plans with a guy who just ups and vanishes.”

Barry choked on his beer, coughing as he shakily set the glass down.

Hal raised an eyebrow. “You alright?”

“Y-Yeah… um, sorry. I didn’t mean to… disappear like that. I just had some… business to take care of.” Barry’s fingers tapped against the paper of his note pad, drawing Hal’s attention.

Nodding towards the paper, Hal prompted, “Whatcha up to? You looked pretty intense before.”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Barry hurriedly flipped the notebook closed, shoving it to the side, but not before Hal caught a glimpse of a few lines of scratchy handwriting and what looked like a few dates. Glancing up, Hal met Barry’s slightly panicked eyes and decided it was best not to press.

“So… you a townie? Or…?” Hal took a slow sip of his drink, eyes never leaving Barry.

“Ah, no. No, I’m not from around here.” He smiled shyly.

“No? Well, you gotta share what town produced a looker like you, ‘cause that is one lucky town.”

“Ha ha! I’m not so sure…” Barry blushed, tracing designs on the table top. “I’m actually from Central City.”

“Missouri? You messing with me? I thought all there was out there was corn and cows.”

“Well, I guess the Plains States have broadened their horizons.”

Hal laughed, his grin broad as he replied, “So, what brings an honest country boy out to Pearl Harbor?”

For a brief moment, a look of hesitation, then sadness, crossed Barry’s face. But then it was gone and he was smiling softly. “I’m doing some… research. For a friend.”

“You the academic type?” Hal took a sip of beer, eyeing Barry over the rim of his glass. “That’s kinda hot.”

Barry actually chuckled this time, ducking his head as his blush deepened. Shaking his head slightly, he glanced up at Hal, his eyes bright and warm. “You’re shameless, you know that?”

Hal preened, wiggling his eyebrow suggestively. “But that’s all part of my endless charm! Haven’t my dashing good looks and roguish intrigue won you over yet?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Barry chided mockingly, giving Hal a seductive glance from behind his glass, “I may need some more charming…”

“Challenge accepted, Allen. Allow the wooing to commence.”

 

_ September 6, 1941 _

 

It took a few weeks to find enough time for a real date, but Hal had made sure to catch a few moments with Barry when he could. So far, Hal had managed to discover that Barry was a journalist sent out to the base to write an article to “capture what military preparations are like in the Pacific” for all those back home. Hal had made a few jokes about Barry only sticking around for an easy source, and the embarrassed flush that colored Barry’s face, accompanied by profuse denials, had been entirely worth it.

Now, at last, Hal had a day of leave from duties and he planned to make the most of it. Standing in front of the mirror, he ran a comb through his hair for about the fiftieth time, frowning when the unruly locks refused to stay in place.

“Jesus, Jordan. You got a hot date, or something? You been preening like a bird for hours now.”

Shooting a dirty look over at where a few of his bunk mates were playing cards at a small table, Hal pouted. “I’m not  _ preening _ . It’s called  _ personal hygiene _ . Maybe you could do with some, Gardner. Do you even know where the showers are?”

The bulky redhead frowned, slamming his cards down on the table as he made to rise out of his chair. Luckily, a firm hand caught his forearm, pointedly guiding him back down before the resident troublemakers could get into another fight. John Stewart, resident engineer and altogether underappreciated ‘unruly child wrangler,’ was probably the only one who was actually allow to do something like that. “Sit down, Gardner. You know he only does that to get under your skin.”

A short chuckle broke the tension, the younger, wiry kid sitting across the table from Gardner shooting him a knowing grin. “John’s right, Guy. You know, it’s best to just ignore him anyway. He’ll just keep trying more and more ridiculous shit to try and get your attention.”

“Wha-- Kyle!” Hal spluttered.

“Jordan, just put yer damn comb away and go on already,” John drawled, giving Hal his

trademark unimpressed face.

Pouting, Hal did as he was told, doing one final check of his appearance and deciding it was about as good as he was going to get. He’d put on the most casual of his military issue clothes, trying to go for a more relaxed appearance than his usual flight suit would allow. It would have to do. Grabbing his wallet, Hal ran his fingers through his hair one more time and turned to give what he hoped was a cocky grin to the three card players. “Alright! I’m off.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Kyle smirked, wiggling an eyebrow knowingly.

“You know I don’t kiss and tell, kid,” Hal brushed off, feeling that familiar little nervous curl in his stomach when it came to instinctually avoiding questions about who he spent his off time with. He knew the three men in this room were ‘wise’ to the gay culture on base and were generally alright, well,  _ probably _ alright if he pretended that Guy fucking Gardner could pull his head out of his ass for more than two seconds. But still, it wasn’t something you talked about with regular folks, so it still took him by surprise when others brought it up so casually.

“Heh,  _ sure _ , Jordan,” Guy scoffed, “Have fun drinking alone.”

Flipping Gardner off as he sauntered out the door with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt, Hal determined to put the whole conversation behind him. Making his way hurriedly out of the barracks and through the gate towards town, Hal took a quick look at his watch, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw he was actually running early.  _ Who woulda thought to see the day _ …

The walk passed by in a blur and before Hal thought he was actually ready, he was standing in front of the bar where he had met Barry the second time. It wasn’t the nicest bar in town, but it was the only bar that didn’t scrutinize a man and his companion beyond how likely they were to keep ordering drinks. Taking a slow breath, Hal berated himself for getting so worked up over this. It was just a  _ date _ , for heaven’s sakes! And he was Hal Jordan, ace pilot and smooth talker! He feared nothing and had no reason to be nervous.

And yet… as Hal walked into the bar, already bustling with soldiers and sailors on leave, his eye was immediately drawn towards the back corner where Barry sat waiting with two drinks on the table in front of him. Hal’s heart betrayed him by skipping a beat and then racing excitedly. What was  _ wrong _ with him? Pulling himself together, Hal elbowed his way good-naturedly through the bar, sliding smoothly into the chair across from Barry and flashing what he hoped was a cocky, nonchalant grin. “Hey there, stranger.”

Barry smiled, nudging a drink towards Hal. “Figured it was my turn to treat.”

“That’s sweet of you, darling.” Hal winked and took a drink, making every effort to appear casual and laid back while his heart attempted to batter its way out of his ribcage.

“So,” Barry began, eyes bright with amusement, “How’ve you been?”

The question was so sweet, so open and honest, Hal wasn’t certain how to respond right away. This was not how he usually approached wooing a date. Normally, Hal was all sly innuendo and steamy banter. “Um… Alright, I s’ppose. Got some new recruits recently, so that’s always interesting.”

“I’m glad you’re doing well. Have the recruits settled in alright?”

_ How does he do that? Be so honestly interested in something so boring? _ “Well enough. It’s always tough the first few weeks, ‘specially when you don’t have strong ties at a new base.”

“I can imagine.” Barry took a drink, smile wide but eyes losing some of their brightness, as if he were seeing a particularly difficult memory.

Not wanting to make Barry slip into a maudlin mood, Hal cast around for a different topic. “Um… how’s the reporting coming?”

Barry perked up, head tilting to the side just slightly so that the dim bar lights caught his hair in just the right angle to frame his face in a golden halo. “It’s going well! I should have a draft of the first piece done this week. Honestly, I thought it would be much more difficult to gather information, but you’ve been so much help. Your observations are going to be really great for the folks back home to get a real idea of what your lives are like. I don’t know that I can ever make it up to you. Thank you, Hal.”

Hal actually felt a blush rising on his cheeks and took a long drink to hide his embarrassment.  _ Pull it together, pull it together _ ! “R-Right, yeah. It’s no big deal. I like talking to you.”  _ Fuck _ .

“That’s good,” Barry chuckled, “I like talking to you, too.”

Hal’s stomach fluttered and he figured he might as well just give in. Feeling bold, or maybe crazy, Hal reached across the table, softly tracing a calloused finger across the back of Barry’s hand. “Guess we’ll just have to keep talking, then, Mr. Allen.”

Just as bold, Barry turned his hand over, linking their fingers with a gentle squeeze, and replied, “Guess so, Mr. Jordan.”

 

_ September 17, 1941 _

 

Hal couldn’t deny the nervousness that was sitting in the pit of his stomach as he stood at attention in front of Major Scott’s desk. The major was an interesting man, face permanently set in an expression of resigned irritation, and was by nature demanding, but fair. Hal had butted heads with him on several occasions after being transferred into Major Scott’s unit, but they seem to have reached a sort of understanding. Still, Hal couldn’t help but be unnerved as the major continued to ignore him in favor of finishing off a few pieces of paperwork. It had been ten minutes since Hal had entered the office and the silence had since grown so tense that Hal was unsure if this were supposed to be some sort of new form of torture. Regardless of the understanding between the two of them, Hal would not put it past Major Scott to test something like that out on Hal.

At long last, the major sat back in his chair, setting his pen aside, and shuffled his papers together in a neat stack which then disappeared into a folder. Glancing up with an expression of long-suffering annoyance, Major Scott gave Hal a tired glare before rolling his eyes. “At ease, soldier.”

Hal let out a small breath, his posture relaxing fractionally. With a confused lilt to his tone, he asked, “You requested me, sir?”

“Yes.” The major shifted in this chair, corners of his mouth turning down as he steepled his fingers in front of him. After studying Hal for a moment, he continued, “I’ve received several…  _ complaints _ , Captain. Allegations that you have been engaging in undesirable behaviors with another man. Care to comment?”

Hal’s heart felt frozen, his fingers numb as he tried to think of something quick to say. There was no way John or the others had turned him in. Who had it out for him that badly? “That’s absurd, sir.”

Major Scott raised an eyebrow, frown still in place. “Oh? These reports claim that you’ve been seen on multiple occasions ‘being overtly affectionate’ with an unknown civilian. Care to comment?”

Brain running a mile a minute, Hal desperately tried to read anything into the major’s expression. He didn’t look particularly angry, but there was really no telling what Major Scott was thinking. “He’s just a friend, sir.”

“A… friend?”

“Yes, sir. Barry Allen. We met in town, at the bar while on leave. He got along well with the boys.” Hal prayed silently that Major Scott wouldn’t question him too much on the matter.

“Hmm.” Major Scott shifted forwards, expression still unreadable. “And what of the claims that he’s been seen on base?”

Hal swallowed thickly. “True, sir. Allen is a reporter. He’s been sent to report on military life to gain public favor for the war effort, sir.”

The major blinked, expression seeming to soften minimally. “Hmm. Well, while I don’t approve of you talking to reporters and bringing civilians on base without clearance, I’ve got more pressing concerns, Captain. See my secretary and get a pass made up for Mr. Allen. At least pretend you care about official protocol.”

It was as if a massive weight had been lifted from Hal’s chest. Nodding shortly, he managed, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“Hmph.” Major Scott’s gaze turned contemplative. “You know, Jordan, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you get up to in your free time. You’re a good soldier and a damn good pilot.” The admission was surprising, and Hal could do nothing but blink stupidly as Major Scott’s expression turned irritated again. “Don’t give me a reason to have to investigate your sorry ass for bullshit like this. I’ve got an actual job to do.”

“Uh… yes, sir,” Hal fumbled, nodding appreciatively, though with a look of bafflement.

“Hmpf. Good. Dismissed.”

Hal’s brain was still reeling as he gathered the forms Major Scott had told him to from the secretary, walking out of the building and into the early evening with a long sigh.  _ Well _ , he thought, turning towards the service club,  _ that could’ve gone a lot worse _ .

As always, the service club was loud and lively, small groups of GIs gathered around tables, dancing, or taking turns at the piano. The atmosphere was lively, and Hal immediately found himself relaxing. It took little time to find his buddies, gathered as they were at their usual table. John was leaning back in his chair, sipping a glass of Coke and tapping his foot in time with the music. Gardner and Kyle were armwrestling, an amusingly one-sided affair which Hal guessed from the invariably pleased look on Kyle’s face was more about shameless physical contact than actual competition.

Gardner caught sight of him first, having just slammed Kyle’s hand down to the table and looking up with the flush of victory. Cocky smirk in place, he called, “So Jordan, the Major ousting your queer ass finally?”

Rolling his eyes, Hal swung himself into a chair, holding out his hand for the next match. Gardner took it eagerly and they began, biceps straining as Hal replied, “Oh please, Gardner. Major Scott’s a smarter man than that, what with me being the best pilot on base and all.”

“Fuck you, Jordan.”

“Well, if you’re offering...”

Hal could see Gardner’s fury flare and he took the opportunity to twist his grip slightly and finally push Gardner’s hand to the table. While Gardner cursed up a storm, Hal could see Kyle and John sharing a long-suffering eye-roll. Hal just sat back, a little smug, but trying hard to reign it in. While Kyle shifted closer to Gardner, the better to soothe his bruised ego, Hal turned to John, leaning forward a bit to ask, “Speaking of ousting my queer ass, John, you got any idea who might have got it in their head to complain to the Major? I’d like to have a friendly little chat.”

John’s expression grew serious, concerned even. “Look, Hal. You don’t need to be starting fights that’ll get you into even more shit than you’re already in.”

“And what if I promise not to start anything?”

John snorted, giving Hal a wry look. “Uh huh. I’ll believe that the second Gardner starts writing love letters to Kyle.”

“So… not impossible, but highly unlikely.”

John shrugged. “Just let it go, Jordan. The Major’ll handle it so long as you keep your head down.”

Hal pouted. He had never been good at subtlety, too eager to be in the spotlight. Sure, he could keep his head down when it mattered, but it was just so  _ hard _ to keep a level head when he had a clever, earnest,  _ stunning _ blond to distract him. It was just unfair. Still, he knew John was right and he would have to try harder to minimize any obvious signs of his and Barry’s growing affection. Luckily, the press pass Major Scott’s secretary had prepared would help with that, at the very least providing an excuse for Barry to be hanging around so often.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Hal sat back, letting the upbeat music wash over him, content to simply enjoy the company of friends.

  
  


_ October 20, 1941 _

 

“Hey, ain’t that your boy, Jordan?”

“What?” Hal spun around, immediately catching sight of Barry hovering by one of the hangars, hands nervously wringing the strap on his messenger bag. Standing up, he dusted off the knees of his flight suit, grimacing when all that accomplished was adding a few more oil stains to the green fabric. Lifting a cupped hand, he shouted, “Hey! Barry! Over here!”

Barry’s head swivelled around, waving in response as he hurried over to the hangar with a warm grin. “Hey, Hal. I hope I’m not too early.”

“Nah, you’re just on time.” Hal found himself smiling broadly, unable to tear his eyes away from the brilliance of Barry’s pleased face. Allowing himself a moment just to soak it all in, Hal sighed contentedly, thinking to himself that he was so screwed.

“Hey, loverboy. Get goin’! Or do you plan on just staring with that stupid look on yer face all day.” 

Rolling his eyes, Hal looked over his shoulder to glare at Kyle and Gardner as they laughed, waving him off as they mimicked kissing faces. Shaking his head, he turned back to Barry, apologies already on his lips, but he cut himself off at the brilliant shade of red on the other man’s cheeks and the utterly adorable way he was attempting to look at anything but Hal. Grinning, Hal stepped in close, causing Barry to jump and flounder a bit, blush deepening. “Whaddaya say we blow this joint, sweetheart?”

“Ah… ha ha, s-sure thing, Hal…”

Hal felt a thrill of pride as he slid his hand up Barry’s arm, tugging him towards the hangar door to the sounds of hoots and whistles behind them. “Ignore them. They’re just jealous they can’t get anyone to give ‘em the time a’ day.”

Hal led the way between the hangars, heading across the street and towards the massive barracks building. No one gave them trouble as he brought Barry upstairs, just a few sidelong glances and maybe one knowing grin. Hal brushed them all off, dragging Barry along to his bunk. Looking a bit out of place and charmingly curious, Barry mused, “Do they let civilians in the barracks often?”

“Yeah, sure. Guys bring girls back all the time. It’s not strictly  _ allowed _ , but, you know...” Hal shrugged, too busy stripping out of his flight suit to notice the fervent return of Barry’s blush. Dancing around on one foot, Hal waved a hand vaguely towards the trunk at the foot of his bed. “I just need to change and then I’ve got something to show you. Mind tossing me some pants?”

Hal tossed the flight suit at the hamper as he listened to Barry open up the truck. Cringing a little inside, Hal was suddenly, painfully reminded of the state of said trunk and prayed that Barry wouldn’t hold the chaos against him. Once he was down to just his undershirt and shorts, he grabbed a rag and moved to the little sink in the room to try and scrub off the machine oil now somewhat ingrained into the skin of his hands. Once they were clean as they were going to be, Hal turned, starting, “Hey, what’s the holdup…?”

Barry stood by the side of the trunk, hands gentle as they brushed across familiar brown leather. Hal felt his heart constrict, breath coming a little short as he met Barry’s curious expression with a forced smile. “Oh, yeah… the jacket was my dad’s. He, uh… he flew in the last war, ya know, the ‘Great War’ and all that?”  Hal chuckled mirthlessly, looking away as he gently nudged Barry aside, pulling out a pair of pants and closing the trunk. “He… he didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, Hal, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine, Barry. Really.” Hal turned, giving an honest smile this time. “It was a long time ago. But hey!” He finished fixing his belt, walking over to sling an arm around Barry’s shoulder. “I’ve got something really cool to show you. C’mon!” 

They moved swiftly back outside, Hal hurrying them back across the street towards the hangars. This time, however, they headed towards one on the far edge of the row, the word _ s Hangar 17  _ painted in block stencil font across the hangar doors. Waltzing up to the personnel entrance on one side of the building, Hal pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket, fiddling around with them until he found the right one. Inside, they passed through an office, papers and a radio scattered across the desk. Hal didn’t linger, however, but led the way further inside, flipping a few switches to bring on the main hangar lights. Looking out across the vast space, Barry couldn’t help the look of awe that crossed his face. The hangar housed what looked like ten brand new fighter jets, their paint gleaming and brilliant in the light. From where they stood, Barry could see the detailing on the sides of the engine block: wide open mouths filled with sharp shark’s teeth and fierce eyes to match. All in all, they were stunning.

Beside him, Hal grinned. “These are the newest planes on the base, just got ‘em in last week. P-40 Warhawks. They handle beautifully, like floating on a cloud.”

“They’re amazing.”

Hal glanced to his side, secretly reveling on the amazed look on Barry’s face. It wasn’t often that the people he was interested in took any interest in flying. Sure, they were always drawn in by the mystique of him being a pilot, but they didn’t quite get it. Barry, on the other hand… They had been talking over drinks the other day, Hal telling stories of some of the planes he’d flown, going into excited detail about how they handled, the feel of them in the air, and Barry had sat there, enthralled, actually asking him questions and looking intrigued. It made Hal’s heart swell just thinking about it. Sure, he played the nonchalant playboy, but deep down, Hal just wanted someone to talk to, someone who got him. And he was pretty sure that Barry filled that dream perfectly.

“Hal?”

“What?” Hal blinked, suddenly realizing he had been staring, a ridiculously smitten look on his face. Shit.

Barry smiled, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You like what you see?”

“I just might, Allen. I just might.”

 

_ November 14, 1941 _

 

Barry had asked him last week if he’d wanted to go out for drinks, just the two of them. Of course, Hal had agreed, but training and other responsibilities had been getting in the way, until now. Hal had bribed Kyle to cover his shift in maintenance and now he was waiting at the gate, fidgeting nervously with the collar of his jacket. It had been awhile since he’d worn his father’s jacket, but the evening was a surprisingly cool one, and he figured, why not. He’d gotten there early, after spending about an hour attempting to get dressed. Guy had given him hell for it, laughing his ass off when Hal changed his pants for the third time. Thankfully, John had managed to drag the obnoxious red headed pilot away before Hal had managed to break Guy’s nose, again, giving Hal a supportive nod as he left. Honestly, Hal wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, why the butterflies just wouldn’t go away. They had been out for drinks before, just the two of them, but this time felt… different. Usually it was Hal asking Barry, or just happening to run into the stunning blond at the bar, but this… Hal had never really fallen for anyone before, so all this was new and a little bit terrifying.

A small cough jerked Hal out of his reverie and he turned to see Barry standing just a few feet away, running a hand through his hair. He was wearing a simple button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and plain trousers, nothing special, but Hal was fairly certain he had never seen anyone more attractive in his life. There was a light blush on his cheeks as he smiled softly at Hal, eyes bright and warm. Hal immediately felt his heart flutter, as if it were attempting to beat its way out of his chest. Suddenly unsure of himself he stuttered, “Oh, h-hey, Barry. Sorry, I… wow. You, uh… you look nice.”

Barry’s smile widened as he gave Hal a very obvious once-over. “Thanks. You too.”

They stood awkwardly, just waiting for the other to make a move, before Barry finally coughed, waving towards the gate. “Well… I guess those drinks aren’t going to get themselves.”

Hal chuckled, sidling up alongside Barry and weaving his fingers into his. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, here we are.”

They walked in companionable silence, the darkness falling around them like a comforting blanket. Town wasn’t all that far from the base, but it was a long enough walk to give them time to start feeling a bit of the chill. By the time they had made it to the bar, Barry was pressed up close along Hal’s side, Hal’s arm around his shoulder. The bar was moderately full, the crowd equal parts civilians and soldiers, and the two made their way over to a vacant table off to the side. Pulling out Barry’s chair with a completely unnecessary flourish, Hal made sure he was comfortable before heading to the bar to grab them some drinks. Just a few minutes later and he was back, sliding a glass of beer across the rickety table towards Barry’s waiting hand.

“There ya go. I would’ve gotten something fancier, but the pickings have been a little thin these past few weeks.” Hal took a sip of his drink, eyes trained on Barry. The dim lighting of the bar caused an interesting array of shadows to be cast across the other man’s face, contrasted by the way his brilliant blue eyes captured the light. Hal couldn’t stop the way his heart kept doing flip-flops every time Barry glanced up, fluttering those gorgeous, long eyelashes. He was like a renaissance painting, kept hidden at the back of someone’s musty old manor until it is one day revealed in daylight to be even more stunning than a Michelangelo.  _ Whoa, there, buddy. Slow down… _ Hal reined himself in, trying desperately to tame his thoughts as they slid to more risque aspects of renaissance art. _ Don’t want to be getting ahead of yourself, flyboy. _

Barry took another slow sip of his drink, setting the glass down and smiling happily over at Hal. He looked refreshingly content, more at ease than Hal had ever seen him in the near four months they’d known each other. It was definitely a look Hal could get used to. Coughing slightly, Hal set his own drink down, venturing, “So… How’s it been? I know it’s been awhile since we got to see each other.”

Barry ducked his head a bit, fiddling with his glass. “Oh, you know, same old, same old… Not much changing really… Oh!” He perked up, eyes bright with excitement as he leaned forward. “I just got my nephew his first molecular physics book for his birthday! He’s absolutely adorable!”

Hal smiled a little awkwardly, eyebrow raised but unable to fight the contagiousness of Barry’s excitement. He couldn’t help feeling a bit surprised, though. Barry had never talked about his family, and Hal had never pushed him to do so. He figured it would have been pretty hypocritical to attempt to drag the details of Barry’s family life out of him when Hal himself hadn’t been that forthcoming either. “Uh...really? Wow, that’s, uh… So! You have a nephew?”

“Yeah! Well… He isn’t actually my nephew, but he’s as good as. His mom is sisters with my best friend from… well, from forever, really.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, and Hal couldn’t help but find the action endearing.

“That’s pretty cool. What’s his name?”  
“Wallace, but we’ve been calling him Wally.”

Hal grinned, taking another drink, before venturing, “So… got any plans for the holiday?”

Barry paused in lifting his own glass to his mouth, brow furrowed in confusion. “Um… I don’t…” His mind looked to be racing a mile a minute, eyes wide and never leaving Hal. “You mean… Thanksgiving? It’s not for another week or so…”

It was Hal’s turn to look confused. “Bar, Thanksgiving’s on Thursday. The 20th, remember?” Hal chuckled at the alarmed look on Barry’s face. “You must’ve had your head too deep in a book these past couple ‘a weeks.”

“Hah… haha, yeah, I guess… I guess so…” Barry chuckled nervously, quickly taking another drink as Hal leaned forward, eyes searching and curious.

“I’m guessing you’re not heading back to Missouri, then. So how about spending it with me?” Barry’s startled expression made Hal immediately attempt to backtrack. “I-I mean, only if you want to…”

“No! No, that would be… That’d be really nice, actually.” Barry smiled softly at him, and it was all Hal could do to keep from pumping his fist in the air. 

As it was, Hal grinned broadly, his entire body humming with excitement. “Great! It’s a date!”

They fell into easy conversation, discussing everything from Hal’s latest test flights, to base gossip, Barry’s research and the weather. It was so simple, so effortless with Barry, and for a moment, Hal allowed himself to feel a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be something here. All too soon, the bartender was tapping on their table, giving Hal a meaningful look as he shooed them out. Honestly, Hal was surprised at how late it had gotten without either of them even noticing. As they began the walk back, Barry huddled close to his side to stave off the chill, Hal felt truly content. Spurred on by some spark of boldness, Hal shifted, lifting his arm to wrap around Barry’s waist. Barry didn’t back away, and from the corner of Hal’s eye, he could just make out a soft smile and gentle blush on the other man’s face. Up ahead, Hal could make out the lights of the base and a sort of thrill ran through him, causing him to turn, starting, “Barry, I _ mmph _ \--!”

The kiss was everything he had ever dreamed. Barry’s lips were gentle against his, eager, but cautious, ready to move back if Hal didn’t respond. Not one to leave a man hanging, Hal surged forward, fitting a hand behind Barry’s head while the other pressed gently against the base of his spine. It was soft and slow, all exploration. Hal was aware of Barry shifting, one of his arms clutching at Hal’s shoulder while the other slid into his back pocket. Unable to hold back, Hal chuckled into the kiss, pulling back slightly to smile down at Barry, staring straight into brilliant blue eyes. “Hey now, Mr. Allen. I’m not that kinda girl.”

Barry snorted, giving Hal a small nip on the bottom lip. “You’re insufferable.”

As they were leaning in for another kiss, a sudden shout broke the air, causing Hal to draw back and look towards the gate. To his surprise, John and Guy were running their way, looks of concern on their faces. Immediately on guard, Hal stepped a bit away from Barry, brows furrowed as the two drew up next to them. “What’s going on, guys?”

John’s frown deepened, and even Guy looked perturbed. After a moment, John began, “Hal… there was an accident…”

Hal’s heart froze, immediately registering the poorly concealed, pained expression on Guy’s face. _ Shit… no, no, no….  _ “John…”

“It’s Kyle. There was a malfunction on one of the winches. The line broke and dropped the engine he was working on.”

Hal’s face paled, not really needing John to elaborate. They had been scheduled to do regular maintenance on the new Warhawk engines, and weighing in at around fourteen hundred pounds… “Oh god… Is he…?”

“He’s alive, but…” John trailed off, glancing for a brief moment at Guy before continuing, “His leg… it got crushed. They couldn’t save it.”

Hal suddenly felt as if he were drowning, thoughts swirling around him at a dizzying rate, but none more prominent that the fact that it should have been him working on that engine. A kid was crippled now, and it was all his fault. Numbness creeped up his limbs, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was even breathing. It took the sensation of a warm hand pressed against his face to draw him back, his eyes focusing again to find Barry looking at him with a strange expression quickly replaced by concern. “Hal? Hal, are you alright?”

“I have to go. I have to…” He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts for a moment before glancing over at John. “Can I see him?”

“He just got out of surgery. He’ll be out for a while, but you should be able to see him tomorrow.”

“Okay… okay...” Feeling a little calmer now, more himself, Hal turned to Barry, attempting to formulate a sentence and failing miserably.

Barry simply nodded knowingly, gripping Hal’s arm tightly as he held his gaze. “Don’t worry about me. Go be with your friends. I’ll be alright. And…” He glanced down, looking as if he were trying to decide what to say next. Shaking his head, Barry met Hal’s eyes again, squeezing Hal’s hand. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you need me. I promise.”

Hal nodded, pulling Barry to him for one last hug before allowing him to slip from his grasp. He watched Barry’s retreating form for a moment before turning back to the base, walking in heavy silence back towards with bunker with John and Guy, a feeling of emptiness in his chest. 

 

_ November 20, 1941 _

 

Hal leaned against a wall in the lobby of the hospital, absently flipping through a magazine John had lent him the day before. He had visited Kyle every day the past week, doing whatever he could to make up for all the guilt he felt over the accident. Kyle had taken it all in stride, joking that he’d always wanted to be a pirate as a kid. Guy had spent every night since the surgery in the hospital, sleeping in a chair by Kyle’s bed, too stubborn to leave when Hal and John had insisted he get a full night’s sleep for once. All in all, things had been a little tense around the base since the accident, and it was a relief to everyone when Thursday finally rolled around with an excuse to relax and probably get shitfaced.

The promise of Barry’s company added to the brighter mood. Hal hadn’t seen him since the night they kissed, and there was a small part of his mind had been plaguing him with thoughts that it had all been some sort of wishful dream. But, sure enough, Barry had called the barracks Wednesday night, asking if it was still alright for him to join them for Thanksgiving, offering to bring some drinks. Hal had been almost visibly ecstatic as he told Barry to meet them at the hospital where they’d be celebrating with Kyle, since he was still confined to his bed.

The sound of the door opening drew Hal’s gaze up and a broad grin spread across his face as he saw Barry, a brown paper bag in one hand. Holding himself back a bit, Hal walked over, immediately embracing Barry in a tight hug. “Hey, Barry! I’m so glad you could come!”

“Of course! I wouldn’t dream of missing out.” Barry was smiling fondly, blue eyes dazzling as ever, and it took a moment for Hal to regather his thoughts.

“Yeah… Oh! Here, let’s get you signed in and then head upstairs.”

The receptionist gave them a warm smile, putting Barry’s name down and wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving as they made their way towards the stairs. At the third floor, Hal made a quick right, leading Barry down a short hall and into a small, two bedroom at the end. John and Guy had shifted the extra bed against the far wall to make a short of makeshift couch, while a little table they had undoubtedly stolen from the mess hall occupied one corner. Spread out across the table was an assortment of the special dishes cooked up for the holiday: carved turkey, cranberry sauce, green beans, cornbread, and even a pumpkin pie.

When the door opened, Kyle caught sight of them first, waving as he called, “Hey there, Barry. Glad you could make it.” He looked tired, but otherwise surprisingly happy for a man who had just lost a leg. Under the covers, it was clear where the doctors had had to amputate the left leg just above the knee, the blankets flat against the bed where his calf and foot should be. Hal had talked to the doctors after the surgery, grilling them and John on the details of the accident. They had been lifting one of the engines back into place in the plane when the winch cable snagged on something and snapped. Kyle had the misfortune of standing right below the thing, and though he had tried to dodge out of the way, his leg had still been caught beneath the engine. The result had not been pretty. The bones of his lower leg and knee had been shattered well beyond repair, and the doctors had had no choice but to remove the leg or risk him bleeding out. 

Barry smiled at the other airmen, lifting a bottle of wine out of the bag he was carrying, “Hope this makes up for being late.”

Kyle laughed, eyes bright. “It’s more than enough.” Then, glancing pointedly at the table in the corner, he prompted, “Sooo… we gonna get this party rolling…? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I could eat a horse right now. Hospital food is not very tasty.”

Eagerly, they all moved to dish up some food, Guy being sure to make up a plate and take it over to Kyle first before returning for his own. Once everyone had loaded their plates with more food that was probably recommended, they all settled down, waiting as John raised a glass to say a few words. “It’s been a trying week, but I think we can all say we are thankful that Kyle is here to celebrate with us.” They all nodded, murmuring agreements. “And not to steal his thunder, but I think Kyle has something he wants to tell us all…”

Kyle shifted, settling his plate more securely in his lap. “Yeah… well, Major Scott came by this morning and let me know that next week, once my stitches are healed up a bit more, I’ll be heading stateside.”

A sort of stillness fell over the room as they all took in the news. Hal had figured this would happen, but it still cut a little deep, dredging up the guilt he’d been trying to bury all week. He was happy for the kid, honestly, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for the circumstances. Forcing a smile, he said, “That’s great, Kyle.”

“Heh, yeah. I’m getting an honourable discharge and they’re flying me back home to LA.” He smiled, a little bit of sadness in his eyes as he glanced over at Guy. “Guess you guys’ll just have to fly out to visit sometime. My dad runs a bar, so we could have a pretty good time.”

“Absolutely.” Hal grinned at him, raising his glass. “To Kyle getting out of this place and getting a real job!”

Laughs and cheers were exchanged as they tucked into their meals. Conversation was light as they ate, Barry politely asking Kyle what he’d like to do now that he’d be back in LA.

Kyle shrugged, talking around a mouthful of cornbread. “Dunno, really. I always wanted to be an artist… maybe I’ll go back to school.”

“You do got an eye for detail,” Guy mumbled beside him, earning a bright grin from Kyle.

Barry smiled. “That sounds wonderful. It’s great to have the opportunity to do what you really love.”

Hal couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face as he watched Barry chatting with the younger pilots. There was just something magnetic about Barry, something so undeniably positive and calming about his presence that made Hal feel more comfortable and at home than he had in years. Ever since he had a falling out with his brothers, Hal had found himself wandering, a bit of a lone wolf. But at the time, that had suited him just fine. He’d work a job here or there, never really settling down anyplace or getting close to anyone. Then he’d joined the Air Force and learned the thrill of flying, moving from base to base as he was re-stationed. He’d made some friends over the years, but they all knew that their lives were more fluid, long term plans not really seeming like something plausible. But these past several months with Barry…

Hal had never wanted something so fiercely in his life.

He took another drink, polishing off his first piece of pie and eyeing up another, when John nudged him, eyes sharp and knowing. Feigning ignorance, Hal tried, “What’s up?”

John raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at where Barry was raptly listening to Guy tell some story. “You’ve been sighing like a schoolgirl for about twenty minutes. And don’t tell me you haven’t been making eyes at him since that first night you sat down with him at the bar.”

Hal made a defeated noise, pie all but forgotten as he looked back at Barry. “Why d’you gotta be so observant, John? You’re killin’ my devil-may-care image.”

John scoffed, fixing Hal with a look. “Sure. You keep telling yourself that. And while you’re at it, you should probably get around to telling Barry how you feel.”

“It’s not that easy, John.”

“Well, you sure as hell ain’t makin’ it any easier.” John nudged his shoulder. “Don’t be like Guy and bottle it all up until it’s too late.”

They fell silent for a moment, watching as Kyle laughed at something Guy had said, the red-head grinning ear to ear at the response. Hal had had his suspicions for a while about Guy, but you’d probably have an easier time calming down an angry bull than getting Guy Gardner to admit he had feelings for someone. Given all that had happened, though, it seemed Guy had suddenly been driven to action, and although the news of Kyle leaving was hard to take, Hal knew Guy was taking it even harder. Glancing back at Barry, Hal couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like if something happened to him and he never got the chance to tell Barry how he felt. In this line of work, injuries were common enough that it was a real concern, and with things shaping up the way they were overseas, it was likely that they’d be called into action sooner rather than later.

John waited patiently, watching as the thoughts passed across Hal’s face. Softly, he said, “There’s no reason not to say it, Hal. Do something for yourself, for once.”

Hal remained silent, taking another drink thoughtfully.

Their little party lasted well into the evening, the three bottles of wine Barry had brought disappearing with little trouble. Most of the food was gone as well by the time Hal was walking Barry back out to the gate. John had stayed behind to clean up while Guy put the room back in order. After waving their goodbyes and Barry offering Kyle good luck, Hal had led the way back down to the lobby and out the front doors into the cool night air. His face was warm and he felt pleasantly light from the wine. Glancing at Barry from time to time, Hal thought back on what John had said, heart warring with his head as he debated what to do. Before he knew it, they were already at the gate, Barry slowing to turn towards him.

Feeling suddenly nervous, Hal ran a hand through his hair, shifting from foot to foot. “Hey… um, thanks for coming. It was… it was really nice.”

Barry smiled. “Well, thanks for inviting me. Your friends are really great. You must be pretty lucky, Hal.”

“Heh, yeah…” Silence fell between them and Hal felt as if his heart was beating about a thousands miles a minute. “Hey… Barry, I… I wanted to… uh, well… about the other day, ya know, when we--”

Barry’s face suddenly became a little alarmed, blush reaching to his ears as he hurriedly cut Hal off. “Hal! I… I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have just k-kissed you without…. I’m so… I just didn’t know and the mood seemed, well… we were just--”

“Hey! Hey, slow down.” Hal reached out, gently tugging on Barry’s hand to pull him closer. Glancing away a little embarrassedly, Hal muttered, “It was actually… pretty nice. I mean… I liked it. I really did. And, well, I’d kinda… like to do it again?”

Barry’s eyes were very round, his mouth open in a little ‘oh.’ “Um…”

Hal was extremely flustered now, quickly letting go of Barry’s hand and backing away. “Aw geez… I’m sorry. Shit, um… that was… I just really like you, and...”

“Yes!” Barry quickly snatched Hal’s hand back, practically dragging the airman forward so that suddenly they were pressed together, Barry’s face very close to Hal’s. “I’d… I’d like to kiss you, Hal Jordan.”

“I…” Hal’s brain had officially short-circuited, his attention lost in the eager expression on Barry’s face and the brightness of those blue eyes. “Uh, yeah… yeah, I’d like that.”

The kiss was just as thrilling as Hal had remembered, warmth spreading through his whole body as he slipped his arms around to hold Barry closer to him. He hummed into the kiss, feeling Barry’s arms move up to circle his neck, one hand cradling the back of his head as his fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Hal was on cloud nine, his mind a hazy mixture of happiness and disbelief. This was real, the Barry Allen wrapped in his arms, kissing him back, was real. 

When they broke apart for air, Hal’s head was reeling, his face flushed and eyes dazed. Looking down at Barry, he was in much the same situation, blue eyes bright and full of affection. Grinning, Hal leaned down, pressing a few quick pecks to the corners of Barry’s mouth, his nose, his forehead, before mumbling against his ear, “I think I might love you, Barry Allen.”

Barry just laughed, bright and clear and warm, and replied, “Good. Because I think I might just love you, too.”

 

_ December 7, 1941 _

 

Hal woke to chaos. The sound of the air raid siren was barely audible above the thundering booms of heavy artillery fire. Scrambling out of his cot, Hal threw on the first thing he grabbed, tugging on his boots as he heard Major Scott shouting orders. The men all around him were in much the same boat, hurriedly trying to pull on flight suits as the sound of bombing continued outside. A quick glance out the window showed a nightmarish sight: Japanese aircraft flying in low as several of the hangars were burning. 

“To your planes! Move, move, move!”

Everything was a blur as Hal sprinted towards the exit, thundering down the stairs with the other pilots as they rushed out towards the remaining hangars. Outside, the chaos was even more apparent, with groups of soldiers running left and right, some attempting to put out fires while others prepped aircraft or manned the anti-aircraft artillery. The ever present drone of engines hummed in the air, normally thrilling, but now terrifying. Sprinting past the row of burnt out and destroyed hangars, Hal made his way to Hangar 17, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him as he made a bee-line for the racks of flight-gear. As he scrambled to pull on the parachute, helmet, goggles, and scarf, the ground crews were hurriedly prepping the Warhawks for take off. Just as he was slipping the last of the clasps into place, the low drone of a plane coming in caught his attention, and Hal turned just in time to see a pair of A6M “Zero” fighters drop their payload on Hangar 13.

The explosion was deafening, the shockwave knocking many of the pilots off their feet as they watched in horror as the neighboring hangar disappeared in a cloud of fire and smoke. Struggling to his feet, Hal felt a cold sort of emptiness settle in his bones, and before he knew it, he was racing to one of the Warhawks that had just been prepped, shouting at the ground crew to get ready for take off. Slinging himself into the cockpit, Hal fell into the easy, mechanical motions of preparing for flight, nudging the plane out for take-off. Outside, fire and smoke were billowing up from Hangar 13 and he could just make out the sounds of screams and shouts as soldiers rushed to attempt a rescue. Tearing his focus away from the wreckage, Hal flipped on his radio, running through the proper protocols before staring down the runway. In all honesty, he was surprised he’d made it this far, considering the mess of Japanese planes still raining terror down around him, but he had no time to focus on that, concentrating instead on urging his plane forward and up into the sky.

The scene in the air was no less chaotic than it had been on the ground.

Planes wove in and out of one another, the chatter of machine gun fire splitting the air as a sharp staccato against the thrum of engines. Nudging the Warhawk higher and higher, Hal peered down at the island below, trying to get a better idea of just what they were dealing with. It looked like a sizeable number of ships and aircraft carriers had been bombed in the harbor, not to mention the surrounding military bases. Grimacing, he switched his attention to the Japanese planes, tracking a few and then plummeting down from his cruising altitude in hot pursuit. The first plane he managed to tail was good, but Hal was better, never letting the other pilot escape his sights. After a few attempts, Hal managed to catch the other plane’s engine, setting the entire nose alight and causing the aircraft to plummet towards the ocean. He continued this way for what felt like hours, picking up the tail of another plane, or picking up a tail himself, and always managing to out maneuver them. After awhile, he lost track of how many he’d sent spiraling down out of the sky, the sounds and motions dissolving into an exhausting, nightmarish delirium. In his ear, Hal could hear the chatter of the other pilots, could hear when they were hit or made a hit, could hear the screams of terror or the shouts of victory. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once, and before long, Hal found himself lost in the madness of it all.

At some point, he must have taken a hit, because smoke was trailing from his engine, though not enough to be a huge concern. Still, as he searched for his next target, the sharp sound of machine gun fire drew his attention to the Zero quickly closing in on him. Veering sharply to the left, Hal made a swift dive, attempting to shake the other plane. It seemed he was out of luck, however, as the Zero made equally quick adjustments, sticking to him much too close for Hal’s liking. Gritting his teeth, Hal pulled up sharply, nosing up into a backwards loop. The engine of his plane groaned in protest, but the sharp sound of gunfire passed him by, giving him at least a little bit of a chance to gain the upper hand. Looking down as he came to the apex of his backwards loop, Hal caught sight of the other plane coming up on his left. A sinking feeling clenched at his guts as he saw the other plane line up an almost too perfect shot…

Hal had probably always known how he’d go, he just wasn’t sure he’d been expecting to go so soon.

He watched in what felt like slow motion as his engine exploded into flames, feeling it acutely as the plane around him jerked in the air. With nothing propelling it, the Warhawk arced towards the ocean, Hal catching glimpses of water through the raging fire before him. In his ear, he thought he might have heard John or Guy shouting his name, but he couldn’t respond, just watching a little sadly as the water came up to meet him.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye.


End file.
